


Touches and Teases, Kisses and Pleases.

by MamaCake



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, My First Smut, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaCake/pseuds/MamaCake
Summary: Drift has finally had it with the dirty messages when he's trying to work. He's going to find that medic and he's going to make him pay.Maybe.Shameless smut and some fluff and Rodimus being ridiculous, because when isn't he?





	Touches and Teases, Kisses and Pleases.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time publishing smut and it's safe to say I'm pretty worried about it 😅 please go easy on me? I'm not great at full on porn, I like to have some story about it too but I hope you enjoy. Also I'm not sure on the title?!

It was time for payback. It had finally gone way too far and now that good for nothing medic was going to get what he'd had coming to him for a long time. Drift narrowed his optics as he thought about the latest crimes that had been commited against him in front of Ultra Magnus of all bots. Revenge was a dish that was most definitely going to be served warm and uncomfortable.

“Rodimus.” 

He stepped straight in, the door to the captain's quarters was already open, and the mech himself was busy shining his shoulders with a whistle. He didn't stop to look up but gestured at the seats that were the other side of his desk for any visitors. Drift rolled his optics but didn't take a seat. 

“I see you're busy.” 

“Yep, it takes a lot of hard work to look this good I'll have you know.” 

“Yeah, sure.” he folded his arms, “too busy to do me a favour?” 

“Depends what it is?” 

“Can you punch me? Hard enough to dent.” 

Rodimus stopped, a wry grin creeping along his faceplate and he threw down the cloth he was using to shine himself. He pushed the chair back and sauntered over to where his friend was standing, and without any warning drew his fist back, but Drift was wise to his ways and quick, blocking the swing effortlessly and narrowing his optics.

“Not the face! And really?! You're not going to even ask why?” 

“Hey, it's not everyday someone walks in here asking me to punch them, I'm gonna oblige, you never know when that opportunity might arise again.” 

With a shrug and a grin, Rodimus leant back against his desk and waited for the explanation. The other mech shifted a little, knowing that when he said what he was about to say it would be clear as to why.

“I need an excuse to be treated in the medbay.” 

“Ohh. In that case, gimme a sword, I'll give him something good to fix so you get lots of attention.” 

“No, I only wanted- oh forget it, I'll ask someone else.” 

“Drift, c'mon, what are friends for?” Rodimus pushed himself forward, “so where do you want it?” 

With a couple of dents to his sides, Drift made his way along to the medbay, wondering what he'd done to deserve a friend like Rodimus. From the beginning the captain of the Lost Light never really asked anything of him, and whatever Drift had asked for, he'd obliged. He felt sometimes that he'd been given more from his friend than he deserved.

With a shake of his helm at the thought, he limped in and found Ratchet in deep discussion with First Aid. At the sight of him hunched and holding his injuries, they broke off their conversation and Ratchet lifted an optic ridge.

“What did you do?” 

“Oh, this? It's nothing I guess.” 

Trying not to grin, Drift threw himself into the door with a faked stumble and before he knew it, Ratchet was by his side, optics bright with concern. Dropping his helm to hide the smirk on his face, Ratchet mistook the shake of his shoulders for real pain, and gently led him over to a berth. Straightening his features, he lay down with a groan and closed his optics, stretching his arms up above his helm.

As Ratchet leant over him to examine him, wondering where he'd managed to get such a dent in his playing, Drift moved one of his arms slowly, desperately trying to keep the amusement down that was trying to escape. Just as the medic went to enquire about what had happened, he felt a swift smack right across his aft.

He stood again quickly, narrowing his optics at where Drift was helpless with laughter on the berth, curling himself up onto his apparently not that injured side. 

Ratchet knew he should have been slightly mad at the audacity of him doing that where he was sure First Aid was probably watching, but then he guessed he deserved it a little when he'd sent salacious messages all morning. 

Instead of shouting, he rolled his optics and shoved Drift right off the berth, and he disappeared with a yelp. Feeling slightly better, Ratchet slowly leant over the berth and smiled wryly. 

“Pretty low of you to appeal to my concerning doctor side.” 

Still laying in a heap, Drift grinned up from the floor and examined with his fingertips where he was sure he had a new dent to go along with the few Rodimus had given him. Even if he hadn't asked for another dent, he definitely deserved it. 

“And sending me messages when I'm speaking to  _ Magnus _ isn't low?” 

“I didn't know you were with Magnus.” 

“Yes you did, I saw you as I was walking to his office. I blew you a  _ kiss _ .”

He feigned ignorance, “must be getting forgetful in my old age.” 

With a groan, Drift pulled himself up to sit and the medic took pity on him, going around the berth to hold a hand out to help him up. It was just too good of an opportunity to be missed, so Drift pulled himself up and launched himself at the medic, kissing him hard. With a laugh, Ratchet pushed him away and muttered quietly. 

“Get out my medbay, you tease, you're not even hurt.” 

He replied back in hushed tones, “Tease? Oh no, we're not even getting started, just you wait.” 

As Drift pushed past him with another cheeky grin, he brushed his hand across Ratchet's hip, knowing that just a little caress would ignite some lust. He was right, and Ratchet fought the urge down to pull him back and throw him down onto the berth. It was seriously inappropriate at work, but tempting nonetheless. Instead he watched Drift, standing tall and straight now, leave and wondered what he could do to get him back.

* * *

 

With a tired ex-vent, Drift made his way down to the energon supply stores slowly. It had been such a long and boring day of ship checks and inventory at Magnus’ orders and he knew he was being given the exceptionally tedious jobs due to the inattention he'd paid earlier on in the day. 

He thought back to the brief spell of causing chaos in the medbay with a small smile to himself. He couldn't wait to get that medic in a berth later. In fact, he was so caught up in his thoughts as he reached the energon store room and pulled out his datapad to start doing his job, that he didn't notice the narrowed optics that were peeking around the door frame, or the quiet steps as someone tiptoed in. 

It was a few moments before he felt a slight tingle down his back strut, like there was something out of place, but instead of turning he listened carefully. Nothing. With a small huff at himself at his lack of focus, he shook his helm and went back to work. 

Suddenly, there were hands creeping onto his hips and under any other circumstances he would have kicked out at whoever was behind him, but he knew that touch anywhere. It was soft, but insistent and sent a bigger tingle down his back strut. He stayed still, waiting for whatever was coming. 

“Listen here, you teasing fragger,” Ratchet murmured into his audials, “if you're gonna try and come fluster me at work, expect it back.” 

Drift tipped his helm back slightly with a grin, so his neck was more exposed, as if he were daring him to do something bold with the door wide open behind and the risk that anyone could walk in on them. 

“I'd like to see you try.”

The medic pushed his hips against him aggressively, and in contrast, one of his hands gently tickled against his closed array panel. Drift laughed a little and pressed himself back, feeling the heat between them. 

“If Magnus comes to make sure I'm actually working, it's going to be disciplinary action for both of us.”

“And we both know you like being chastised.”

Ratchet increased the pressure with his hand, just enough for Drift to make a little murmur, then suddenly pulled himself away, turning and strolling out as if nothing had happened. The white mech had to catch himself from stumbling back when there suddenly wasn't a heated frame there, and he turned with a hand on his hip in a fake sulk.

“Oh,  _ that's _ how it is?” 

“Sorry Drift, you seem awfully busy, guess I'll catch you later.” 

There was amusement in the medic's vocals as he strode away without a glance back. 

“That's it, he's asked for it.” 

Drift tried to ignore the lust that was warming him and the uncomfortable pressure against his panel. He knew exactly what he was going to do next, and he just hoped he could pull it off.

* * *

 

"Ratchet.”

First Aid was just about to leave as he came through the door to the medbay, and he stopped, trying to wipe the smirk off his face when he thought about how he'd gotten one over on Drift. 

On his way back to work, he'd encountered a fight in Swerve's and had swept in to help break it up, and shove a dislocated shoulder joint back into its place. Luckily Ambulon was there too, trying to enjoy some peace, and had taken care of the angry mech with glass sticking out of his hand. As long as there were bots happy to beat the scrap out of each other over nothing, Ratchet's work was never done.

“Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I'm just gonna go stock up on medgrade.” 

“Sure.” He motioned at his nearly empty medbay, “I prefer silence anyway.” 

“Wow, thanks. Need anything whilst I'm out getting energon?” 

“I'm fine.” 

When the other medic had left, he made sure that the few permanent patients he had were still there with no change in their condition before he settled down at his desk with an ex-vent, knowing that there would be numerous memos from Magnus on his datapad to delete.  Boring, tedious information on the proper storage of medgrade energon and- 

“Primus!” 

He shoved himself back from the desk with a jerk as something brushed his knee. He was just reaching for the gun he kept strapped to the bottom of the seat when Drift's helm appeared from under it, optics sparkling mischievously and a huge grin across his face. Ratchet stopped reaching for a weapon and instead threw a pointed digit in his direction.

“Have you been hiding under my fragging desk waiting for me to come back?!” 

“Maybe. I guess you're in the right place if I gave you a spark attack.” 

Ratchet narrowed his optics at the other mech, but that quickly disappeared as Drift inched to between his legs on his knees. His hands slid along the medic’s thighs and then onto his array, and Ratchet couldn't help the small groan that caught in his vocaliser. 

“Don't you dare.” he growled unconvincingly, “anyone could walk in.” 

“And anyone could have walked in on the energon store room, but that didn't stop you from pressing your spike into my back.”

Ratchet laughed, “I didn't! Even if I wanted to.”

“And I want to do this.” 

He started to plaster kisses along the inside of his thighs and Ratchet was torn. More than anything he wanted to grab his helm and shove his spike into his mouth after the inappropriate behaviour from earlier, but he knew it was going to be even harder on Drift if he made him wait. He enjoyed the kisses until they were too close, and then he cupped his face and lifted his helm up so he couldn't any more. The wild optics that met his gaze back nearly made him waver in his resolve, but instead he pulled him up onto his lap to kiss him deeply. 

The white mech was obviously riled and he returned the affection hungrily, his hands grasping onto Ratchet's shoulders and he rocked his hips against him. Mustering himself against the part that didn't want to, Ratchet pulled away, venting hard and shook his helm. Drift tilted his helm questioningly, optics dimmed with lust. 

“Aid will be back soon.” 

“So?” 

And he dived forward to try and kiss him again, but Ratchet still had his face cupped gently. He nudged Drift's helm up and nipped carefully at the cables there, feeling the rumble of a groan against his mouth. The warmth that was between them was growing in intensity. 

“Ratchet, please,” Drift mewled quietly, “I need you.” 

“You'll have to wait.” 

He scooped up his lover from his lap and placed him down onto his desk with a smug smile, kissing his face softly as an apology. Drift tried to give him a petulant glare but when Ratchet ran his hands up his back strut lightly, he ex-vented in pleasure, arching into the touch. 

“It better be worth the wait.” 

“Isnt it always?” He laughed lightly, remembering how this started, “I can't believe you hid under my damn desk.” 

“I told you I was only just getting started.” 

There was a cute grin on his face. Ratchet didn't doubt his words, but knew he had to push his lust down before he found himself in a predicament, namely First Aid walking in on them fragging over his desk. He distanced himself by wandering over to the drawer in his desk, mindlessly opening it and then closing it as tried to take his processor off the raging desire inside. 

“So when you getting off?” Drift smirked.

“Hopefully sooner rather than later,” he returned the expression with a lifted optic ridge, “I better make sure there was nothing important that Magnus wanted.” 

“Yeah, I've got reports to give in to him and I told Rodimus I'd drop by later, but then I'm all yours.” 

“You already are.” 

Unable to resist one last kiss, Ratchet went back over to him and stroked the back of his helm tenderly, but Drift had other ideas. He threw his legs around the other mech to pull him where he wanted him and they both laughed.

“Do you want me to shove you off my desk as well as a berth today?” 

“I want you to shove me onto a berth.” Drift purred down his audials, running a hand tantalisingly over his chest, “but I've got to  _ wait _ .” 

“Let go,” he stroked his legs gently, “The sooner we get back to work, the sooner we can enjoy later.” 

With a dramatic huff, Drift dropped his legs down and slid off the desk, managing to steal a quick embrace and sneak a small kiss onto his helm.

For the second time in a few hours, Ratchet was ogling the gleaming frame that was retreating away from him and he ex-vented to himself, thinking about how lucky he was. He was sure that there were plenty of others that Drift could pick to spend time in a berth with, but he'd picked the crotchety, old mech. At least what he lacked in temper, he made up for in passion.

When First Aid finally got back to the medbay with an arm full of energon, he was whistling to himself when he noticed something. With a second take, he glanced at where Ratchet was at his desk pretending to work and raised an optic ridge.

“Are you  _ smiling _ ?” 

“No,” his face dropped, “but if you tell anyone I'll weld you to the ceiling.” 

The other medic held up his free hand in surrender and shook his helm. 

“Whatever. We all know why.”

* * *

 

Drift couldn't wait to just drop Rodimus’ datapad back in his desk like he'd asked, he supposed he couldn't refuse when he'd done him a favour, and then finally seek out the troublesome medic. As he strode into the office, he was once again distracted by the promises in the messages he'd received when he heard footsteps behind him and the door close with a click. 

He was just about to say his name, when Ratchet roughly pushed him against the desk, kissing him fiercely and grabbing his hips hard. Drift threw the datapad down onto Rodimus' chair and pressed back into him, groaning into the kiss. Effortlessly, Ratchet lifted him onto the desk and pushed him to lie back, and Drift threw his helm back as expert hands roamed over his frame, edging towards his array that was aching to be opened and touched. From somewhere, there was a small reminder in Drift's processor that he was in the captain's office and he managed to gather himself a little.

“We can't here,” the pressure on his array increased, “Ratchet, I concede, you've got me.” 

But the medic was too busy enjoying himself, pinning his weight down onto Drift and kissing him once again, relishing in the way the he bucked his hips up, desperate for more attention. Ratchet grinned and nuzzled against his audials.

“You're right, I've got you  _ exactly _ where I want you.” 

“Not on Rodimus’ desk,” he moaned against the small kisses on his neck, “Ratch, I have to work in here.” 

“That didn't stop you trying to hide under my desk to suck my spike.”

Drift was helpless against the heavier frame against him, the brushes against on his neck and the throbbing of his spike against his array. He knew he had to do something to make Ratchet abate and so he backed down submissively. All he wanted was to be touched, desperately.

“Okay, okay, I was a naughty little tease, happy now?” 

Ratchet answered by taking his weight away and wrenching him up to sit, optics twinkling in delight. He kissed him hard then stopped abruptly, pulling him down from the desk.

“No, not until I've had you.” 

They rushed out of Rodimus’ office, nearly bumping straight into Magnus, and they were both venting hard from laughing as Ratchet opened the door to his hab suite. They were barely inside when Drift came up behind him where he was turning on the lights and nuzzled into the back of his neck, arms draped over his shoulders to caress his chestplate. 

Ratchet enjoyed it, closing his optics and then he felt Drift move in front of him, using his weight to push him back against the wall and kissing against his chest. He dropped to his knees and Ratchet gasped at finally being able to release his aching spike, especially when Drift gently caressed the underside with the tip of his glossa. His hands found the back of his helm and he pushed his spike into his mouth, moaning at the way Drift's glossa moved against it as he sucked slowly. He was done with waiting and holding back, and he rested his helm back against the wall as he pushed his hips forward, making Drift take more of his spike into his mouth. The little murmurs further added to his arousal, and he was craving to hear more whimpers of pleasure from the other mech.

He let go of his helm and Drift slowly sucked the spike out of his mouth, glancing up with optics that were wild and full of lust. He groaned at the sight of him, meek and waiting, and his back strut tingled with his arousal.

Ratchet pulled him up and twisted him round so he was the one pinned to the wall, a hand pressing hard against his chest plate whilst the other found exactly what he wanted. Drift closed his optics as soon as Ratchet gripped his spike tightly, knowing he was at his mercy and enjoying every moment of it. He felt him nudge his helm between his neck and shoulder to whisper huskily to him.

“I love watching you squirm and hearing your little whimpers for me, what do you want Drift? Tell me.” 

He ex-vented hard as Ratchet's hand started to slowly and steadily stroke his spike. Usually there wasn't dominance from the medic as he was too worried to scare him away, but after being titillated all day and the way Drift had succumbed to his rougher side, he couldn't help himself. 

“I want your spike,” he mumbled, “frag, I  _ need  _ your spike.” 

With one last tight squeeze, Ratchet removed his hand and pressed himself tightly against Drift to kiss him and run his hands over his frame, brushing digits into seams in his plating and listening to the way he moaned against him. Sufficiently riled, he couldn't take any more and he pulled the white mech over to his berth, throwing him down and kneeling between his legs. 

“Play with yourself for me.” He growled. “Tease yourself like you've teased me.” 

Drift complied, half closing his optics in ecstasy. Suddenly there was another feeling competing alongside the lust as Ratchet gently trailed kisses over the self inflicted dents in his side. He nearly stopped playing with himself but then Ratchet's hand found his and encouraged him to continue. 

When he was sure he'd made him wait long enough, Drift's helm thrown back against the berth and hips twitching up in anticipation, he plunged his spike into his waiting wet valve. They both groaned in synchronisation. This all they'd wanted all day and the relief was incredible. 

Ratchet wasted no time in fragging Drift into total submission, his optics closed and soft little sighs and grunts escaping him as he writhed against the mech on top of him. Ratchet was watching his face carefully, as pleasure took over and alongside the charge that was beginning to build, he felt a huge surge of affection for him too. He leaned down to kiss him again, this time softer, but he was still relentless with his spike, eager to please. 

Drift's charge was building quickly, the more noise he made, the harder and rougher Ratchet was. He reached down to his own spike, and his lover growled against him. 

“Tell me, what do you want?”

“You,” Drift arched his back strut, “all of you, Ratch.” 

And as Ratchet gave him exactly what he wanted, Drift's impending overload crashed over him, his transfluid splashing his midsection. The slick tightness around Ratchet's spike and wetness between them finally tipped him over the edge, and he slammed into Drift hard, burying his face against his chest as he overloaded too.

They vented hard, optics closed tightly and helms now resting together. With a light kiss against his helm, Ratchet gently removed himself from Drift and lay back beside him on the berth. They were both spent, after a day of hardcore flirting and caressing touches that had ended in such an energetic climax.

Ratchet reached over, to find the small dents in the frame next to him and Drift laughed a little at the touch, his optics still closed.

“That tickles.” 

“Sorry,” he spoke gently now, “for pushing you off the berth. But how did you do this?” 

Drift grinned, “I made Rodimus punch me so I had an excuse to come see you.” 

“What?” There was a sharpness to his vocals, “you deliberately hurt yourself just to see me?” 

“I had to find a way to get you to touch me.” 

“ _ Primus _ , in future, just ask.” 

He found some energy from somewhere to lean over and kiss the injury, and when that made Drift giggle, he brought the kiss higher to his face, his spark fluttering with happiness. Of course he enjoyed the interfacing, but he was sure that this bit, where they were drowsy and affectionate was his favourite. 

Drift rolled over, wriggling into him and nuzzling his helm into his chest so Ratchet could stroke his finials softly. For once, the medic was glad that his beloved had fallen into recharge first, with a ghost of a smile on his face and it helped ease him into recharge too.

* * *

 

When Drift had awoken the next morning, he'd found the berth already empty but a small scribbled note taped to the door in the impatient scribble of someone who spent all day writing endless notes. The only difference was that this one was signed with kisses. 

As he opened to the door into Rodimus' office, a brief flicker of the night before flashed into his processor, and he had to fight down the laugh that was threatening to sneak out. 

He collapsed down into the chair opposite his friend's desk, ex-venting tiredly even though he'd recharged well. Across the desk, Rodimus raised an optic ridge, waving the datapad in the air. 

“Buddy, I asked you to put it in my desk, I nearly sat on it.” 

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.”

He hoped his optics didn't betray the amusement he felt, but it was difficult with the next words Rodimus said. 

“Did you notice if that scratch was there before you came in?” 

Pretending that he was yawning once again, he hid the grin behind his hands and shook his helm as coolly as he could manage. There was a long scratch along the desk and he remembered how Ratchet had roughly pushed him down. He hoped that his friend wouldn't ask what he'd done last night, because he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep his face straight. 

Rodimus was obviously still thinking about it, brow slightly furrowed as he opened his drawer and dropped his datapad down. Drift managed to compose himself, diverting his optics away from the desk to the hilt of his sword when something was ringing alarm bells in his processor. He was trying to work it out, when Rodimus spelt it out for him. 

“I guess I can check the cameras.” 

Drift froze, “cameras?” 

“Yeah, you know what Red Alert is like about security, he takes it more seriously than Magnus and his neat handwriting.” 

He tried to sound nonchalant, “you've got cameras… in here?” 

“Yeah, it's alright though, it's aimed mostly at the desk so Red can't see what I'm looking at on my datapad, luckily for him.” 

Rodimus brought his grin up and tilted his helm at where his friend had suddenly gone very still and blank across his face. 

“Drift?” 

“I've got to go to the medbay,” he rose quickly, “for a check up.” 

“Sure. If you need me to punch you again, you know where I am.” 

Drift left with merely a hand raised in reply and Rodimus quirked an optic ridge at him, then dismissed it. He dug the datapad back out and loaded up his recent obsession, earth video games, and he relaxed back, resting his pedes up onto his desk. He frowned slightly as it wobbled, was a leg broken too? 


End file.
